


Such A Good Life, Too

by itsab



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Black Reader, F/M, Happy Ending, One Big Happy Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:21:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23770738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsab/pseuds/itsab
Summary: Just a small glimpse into the future of our favourite assassin's family.
Relationships: Ratonhnhaké:ton | Connor/Reader
Kudos: 22





	Such A Good Life, Too

**Author's Note:**

> The italics means they are speaking in Iroquois language, which I believe is his native language. The reader is written to be of colour, from the Caribbean, and female.

Connor Kenway had truly believed that he would never get the chance to become anyone’s father. This bleak belief mainly stemmed from the multiple tragedies that littered his past. Losing his mother and his village, then discovering that his biological father happened to be in cahoots with the person responsible for the afore-mentioned situations, all led to his disbelief in a ‘normal’ future for him. Mainly, though, said belief was due to the fact that he was an Assassin, working in the shadows to ensure the freedom of the world from the Templars, someone who probably had no business becoming a father.

However, around the time the Davenport Homestead began its rapid population increase; Y/N Collins appeared in Ratonhnhaké:ton’s life.

Unlike most in Connor’s life, she hadn’t been like anyone he’d ever met. Firstly, her skin was a shade that was closer to his own, different from the many white colonists who’d taken his people’s land. If anything, her skin resembled that of the slaves who’d been forced into working for the colonists. It had eventually become known to him, that Y/N was from somewhere called the Caribbean, from a small island that Connor had never heard of. Secondly, Y/N managed to be the perfect complement to his blunt, confused and often too literal persona. She was stunning, funny and witty. Y/N was also caring and naturally nurturing, reminding him in some way of his own mother.

The two were married not too long after the Davenport church finished its construction.

Not even a year of marriage down, and the pair were blessed with the birth of their first child. It had been a perfect little boy, who they had named Achilles Kenway. He was named so, after Connor’s pseudo-father and mentor, a man who meant a lot to the orphaned Iroquois-Kanien'kehá:ka. Things had gotten even more wonderful, as two years after the birth of his son, and a year after the death of Achilles (the first), Y/N birthed the couple’s second son Ratonhnhaké:ton (the second). Whilst he was always refered to as Ratonhnhaké:ton at home, he was called Connor Kenway (the second) in public due to other’s inability to speak or properly pronounce Iroquois.

The mere idea of such a family, of Connor being a father, had been something previously unknown to Connor. But now, now everything was perfect – and he was happy, sublimely so.

“Father! Look, look!” A small, long-haired boy ran up the stone steps, bounding over to the front porch of the Davenport Homestead. He was speaking in his first language, Iroquois, as he did so. The young Achilles held a small bow in his hand, a non-dangerous ‘weapon’ made by one of his father’s friends. “I shot the target!” He’d been ‘training’ for a week now, desperate to be like his tomahawk-wielding assassin-father.

Y/N, who’d been in the kitchen working on preparing a hearty meal for her family, wandered outside wiping her tanned hands on a hand-towel at the sound of her son’s voice. “Achilles!” She did not approve of his attempts to be more like his father, maily due to the fact his younger brother imitated everything his older brother did, “I told you not to play with that!”

The young Achilles pouted at his mother, hiding behind his father’s long legs, “But Mama!” He whined in his second language, mimicking his mother, as it was her second-language too.

“Y/N.” It was the only thing Connor said, but his tone and pleading eyes informed his wife he did not want to be in-between a tantrum and her scolding. “Perhaps we should eat supper, my love?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but said nothing. She also didn’t want to deal with a tantrum. She had just put her youngest child to bed, and had been dealing with painful lower-abdomen kicking from her yet-unborn child all day. “Go, wash up.” Was all she uttered before she twirled around, waddling back into their large home.

Connor felt like he’d successfully dodged a projectile. His wife was a stubborn woman, even more so when she was pregnant, and their son had assuredly inherited that trait from her. He looked down at his eldest, who looked even more of a ‘native’ than he did, “We better listen.” His son nodded, looking very serious as he did so. “Inside, my son.”

As the family sat down for their supper, Ratonhnhaké:ton (the first) could not believe this was his life… It was such a good life, too.


End file.
